


ta bite mec

by harperuth



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, Double Penetration, M/M, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome - M/M/M, [twelve bricks voice] riptide's got two spikes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: Misfire’s wings were hiked up high behind him, pretty much vibrating with some kind of tension, “So, Riptide— Can I call you Riptide?”“It is my designation,” Riptide said.“Excellent,” Misfire dropped his servos flat on the table between them, leaning even further over, “So, Riptide. Can we talk to you about interfacing?”- - -Fic for Rosey, or Swerve and Misfire do Riptide.
Relationships: Misfire/Swerve (Transformers), Misfire/Swerve/Riptide
Comments: 16
Kudos: 111





	ta bite mec

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ros3bud009](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/gifts).



> thank you very much to Rosey for donating to The Okra Project!
> 
> title is from 'my dick' by 3OH!3, and roughly translates to "your dick man."

It was nice that they had asked him out for drinks.

Riptide stirred the swizzle stick in his favorite drink, watching Swerve and Misfire fidget in front of him. It _was_ his favorite drink, which was nice. Swerve always remembered his favorite drink, even when Riptide forgot by himself or was too cratered to remember it.

“So,” Riptide swished the stick once again, watching the silver sprinkles kick up in a whirlpool, “Were we just here to fidget and...I guess that’s a little bit of straight up vibration. Should I also be doing that?”

“Nope!” Swerve yelped and immediately thunked his head down on the table in front of him, “Oh Primus. I didn’t mean to yell at you, I’m sorry.”

“You yell at me all the time,” Riptide reassured him, “The bar is really noisy sometimes.”

Misfire cackled, “You do have a big mouth, babe.”

Swerve mumbled something into the table that Riptide couldn’t hear. Misfire patted the back of his hood, “It’s alright, I got this.”

He leaned forward over the table. Riptide mirrored him. This felt like secrets, which was great, Riptide was _great_ at secrets. Misfire’s wings were hiked up high behind him, pretty much vibrating with some kind of tension, “So, Riptide— Can I call you Riptide?”

“It is my designation,” Riptide said.

“Excellent,” Misfire dropped his servos flat on the table between them, leaning even further over, “So, Riptide. Can we talk to you about interfacing?”

“Sure,” Riptide shrugs, “I don’t think all the sneaking around was necessary though, everyone talks to me about interfacing.”

Tailgate had called him a “connoisseur,” which was the nicest thing that anyone had ever called Riptide. He knew it was nice because Tailgate had followed that up with, “And if you’re even half as good with that ridiculous array all you bots are obsessed with, I don’t understand how you aren’t chained to a berth for the fun of everyone.”

“I don’t think I could do much to make anyone feel good if I was chained to the berth,” Riptide had mused. Tailgate had made a rude noise and dropped into recharge, which, in his experience, was also a pretty good compliment.

“Everyone, huh?” Misfire asked, optics bright, “Excellent. Let’s talk civilly then, slut to slut.”

Riptide didn’t think that was a nice word, but Misfire still looked happy and Swerve hadn’t yelled about language the way he did sometimes, “Sure.”

“The thing is,” Misfire finally leaned back, which Riptide took as his cue to do the same. He took a drink of his engex, “Swerve here has a delightfully lonely valve.”

Swerve made a sound like his vocalizer had been punched down into his fuel tank, but finally sat up, “ _Misfire_.”

“Needs a lot of company,” Misfire finished, grinning almost horribly wide, “If you get my meaning.”

Riptide stared at them, “Um—”

“We want to interface with you!” Swerve yelped, then smacked both servos over his mouth, dermal plating flushing a brilliant pink. It was weirdly cute, even against all his red.

“Oh!” Riptide set his drink down and looked them both over. Swerve was nice. He was pretty cute and courteous so long as the property damage at the bar stayed below 45%. Plus, Riptide would definitely be lying if he said he wasn’t always a little curious about what was behind that Autobranded panel. 

Misfire wasn’t precisely _cute_ , but flyers were always fun in berth. Riptide knew just how nice playing with a propeller felt, and turbines were similar enough. And Swerve had been so much happier once Misfire started hanging around, and Riptide figured there had to be _some_ reason for that. He took another sip of his drink, watching the hopeful optics on him, “Yeah, okay.”

Roller and Nickel had been really busy lately anyway, and Riptide kind of missed threesomes, “I’m guessing you had something in mind.”

“Well,” Misfire drew the glyphs out, smile stretching wide again, “I wasn’t lying about Swerve’s valve being lonely, with just the one spike in there.”

Oh. _Ooooh_. Riptide got it now. He winked both optics, “You came to the right mech then.”

Swerve made a strangled noise again. Misfire threw an arm around him, “Alright there, babe?”

“I’m about fifty-fifty mortified and charged up,” Swerve admitted.

“Wanna go frag in the supply closet on this floor?” Misfire asked. 

Swerve made a noise like he was dying, “Yes.”

Misfire looked back at Riptide and winked, “I’ll comm you later, settle all the details.”

“Sure,” Riptide shrugged, “I’m gonna put another drink on your tab though.”

“By all means,” Misfire winked again and ushered Swerve out of the booth, both of them disappearing quicker than Riptide thought they should have been able.

Well. He flagged down a serving drone and placed all the empty cubes on its top. Forget another drink, he pinged First Aid.

A frag in a supply closet sounded pretty good right now.

\- - -

Swerve was possibly a little, just a bit, nervous.

Not that he didn’t want this. He really, _really_ did. It was just…

Misfire was a known entity. They _got_ each other, like Swerve had never gotten or been gotten before. There wasn’t anything they ever horribly disagreed on, and not once had anything he said been met with judgement or disgust. 

Misfire, for whatever reasons, was into Swerve just as much as Swerve was into him.

“Probably more,” Misfire argued once, “I mean, I am literally in you pretty often.”

Here and now, Misfire planted his servos on his hips and cocked his head at Swerve, “I think I’m gonna need a color.”

“I’m green,” Swerve said, and didn’t realize his digits were tangled together until Misfire was right in front of him and pulling them apart, “Um, a nervous green?”

Misfire dropped to his knees and kissed him, “What’s going on in that processor of yours?”

“What if he doesn’t like me?” Swerve mumbled, weak to every whim and request of Misfire’s.

“Well,” Misfire said, “Let’s explore that option. Say he did agree to come here and frag you, somehow despite not liking you. What happens then?”

“I don’t know,” Swerve squirmed a little, “It feels bad?”

“And if it feels bad?” Misfire prompted him.

“Then it’s red,” Swerve finished, “I know.”

“There you go,” Misfire kissed him again, “I’m pretty positive he likes you though.”

“You’re biased,” Swerve felt himself smiling though.

“About you, sure,” Misfire agreed pretty readily.

The door to their hab chimed. Misfire kissed him again, deep and dirty, backing him up until he bumped the berth. He didn’t break the kiss while he picked Swerve up enough to perch on the edge of it, “Stay right here.”

Swerve let himself collapse backward on the berth while Misfire scampered towards the door as it chimed again. He examined the ceiling and tried to tune out the whispers just beyond his range of hearing. Swerve sighed. It was possible that somewhere between Misfire’s reassurance and kisses that nervous had switched gears to anticipation. 

Plus, he’d been pretty wet behind his panel all day. It wasn’t like getting nervous changed that. If Swerve couldn’t be charged up and nervous at the same time he’d probably never be charged up ever.

“I heard you have a very lonely bot in here,” Riptide said, overly loud and like he was reading off a script. Swerve couldn’t contain his giggle.

“Lonely _valve_ ,” Misfire stage whispered.

“Oh, sorry,” Riptide whispered back then announced, “I heard you have a very lonely valve in here.”

“I do,” Misfire replied, just as stilted and overly loud, “And I just can’t seem to give him enough company.”

“Did you just personify my valve?” Swerve managed to get out between his laughter.

“Well yeah,” Misfire said, immediately breaking character, “Like, you’re my boyfriend, but your valve is definitely my best friend.”

“I don’t remember that line,” Riptide said, “Did I miss something?”

“Sorry,” Misfire said. Swerve pushed himself back up to sitting so he could see both of them, “That was my bad. We can go from your next bit.”

“Okay,” Riptide shrugged, then immediately shifted into the same voice, “It’s okay, I’m here to help.”

He transformed his panel away.

Swerve froze.

Misfire sucked in a sharp invent.

Riptide stood there for a long klik, but their lack of response seemed to deflate him a little bit. Well, deflate his frame, at least, “Uh, guys?”

“Two spikes,” Swerve said reverently and slapped a servo over his mouth.

“Yeah?” Riptide said, “I thought that’s why you asked me..?”

“We asked you because you’re hot and nice,” Misfire managed, faintly, “At no point did we have any knowledge that you were this absolute gift to mechkind.”

“Aw, guys,” Riptide said, looking happier by the second, “That’s really sweet.”

“No problem,” Misfire said, still staring at Riptide’s _two spikes_. 

“I’ve definitely lost my place in the script,” Riptide announced.

“How do you feel about some improv?” Misfire asked, finally working himself into enough motion to herd Riptide over to the berth and sit him on it.

“You okay Swerve?” Riptide asked as he was gently settled next to him. Swerve realized that he still had a servo over his mouth and dropped it.

“I’m so great, like really, you have no idea how great I am right now,” He babbled, “This is probably the best berthroom surprise I’ve gotten after the time Misfire let me pour gelled engex over his array.”

“So worth the clean up,” Misfire interjected, “And the lecture from Spinister.”

“Cool,” Riptide smiled, leaning back on his servos so both spikes were well on display, “Well, improv away.”

Swerve didn’t realize he’d moved until his hood thunked against Misfire’s helm with enough force to push them both back on their afts. Misfire stared up at him from the floor, rubbing his helm, “Swerve.”

“Yeah?” Swerve tried to feel around the spot they’d collided for a dent.

“You know I love everything about your frame, right?” Misfire said, “Like, never want it to change, love it.”

“Uh huh,” Swerve agreed, prodding at the divot Misfire’d left, “What about the spike mod we talked about though?”

“Well that’s your spike, that’s not, like, _you_ ,” Misfire said.

“Aw,” Swerve dropped his servos back to the berth, his spark faltering in its cycle, “Misfire.”

“Anyway,” Misfire grabbed Riptide’s knee and levered himself back to his own, “I would give anything in the multiverse to get rid of your hood right this second so we could both suck Riptide off at the same time.”

“Fair enough,” Swerve hummed, “We’re just gonna have to take turns I guess. Dibs.”

“Ugh, jerk,” Misfire groaned, “You know I can’t deny the sanctity of the dibs.”

“Yupp,” Swerve grinned, then turned to Riptide, “Sorry, any objection?”

“Nah,” Riptide grinned back, “No worries, this is kind of great. I’ve never had anyone that into getting their mouth on me before. Usually they wanna skip right to the fun part.”

“That is a slagging tragedy,” Misfire said, “Does no one else on this ship have taste? The taste to have a taste?”

“Cool,” Swerve refused to be distracted, “I’m gonna do that then.”

“And the fun part?” Misfire kept talking, “I mean, if they’re not having fun with every possible way to interface then I don’t think they’re very good at interfacing, to be honest. Riptide, bud, we clearly should have come to you a lot sooner.”

Riptide said something back, but Swerve tuned them both out. He had a mission to complete. Both Riptide’s spikes were beautifully proportional to his big frame, standing at full pressurization, one atop the other. Swerve trailed digits over one then the other, considering his plan of attack.

The top spike had a strange head, broad and a little flat, like nothing Swerve had ever seen before, but the bottom spike had some ridges that looked absolutely sinful. He was spoiled for choice. 

Curiosity won out.

Swerve curled his glossa around the strangely flared head of Riptide’s top spike, pulling back to run the flat of it across his lips. He was rewarded with a dribbling of transfluid from the tip that he happily lapped up before opening his mouth and dropping down.

Riptide was so wonderfully _big_. Swerve moaned when his conjecture engine translated the input in his mouth to what that spike would feel like in his valve. And that was only the _one_.

\- - -

This was the _best_ idea that Misfire had ever had.

Swerve moaned loudly, for all that he was muffled by Riptide’s spike. Misfire forgot what he’d been saying immediately, “You should put your digits in him.”

“Huh?” Riptide jerked his optics away from Swerve in his lap. Yeah, Misfire got that. There was something really enticing about the way Swerve’s hood blocked the view, so all you got was the feeling.

Misfire slipped around so he was behind Riptide, worming between his shoulder mounts to mouth at the back of his neck, “Put some digits in him. Gonna need to stretch him out so he can take _all_ of you.”

“Oh,” Riptide lifted a servo and petted Swerve’s back a few times, prompting another moan. Misfire buried his smile in Riptide’s neck.

“Go for it,” He urged, “His panel’s definitely open already. Happens every time his mouth is full.”

Misfire pressed his own warming panel against Riptide’s back when he sunk digits into Swerve’s valve with an audible squelch. Riptide slouched just enough to give Misfire a better purchase, somehow not interrupting Swerve at the same time.

“You really are the perfect mech,” Misfire groaned, rolling his hips slowly against him.

“I’m pretty good at threesomes,” Riptide said, turning to blink both optics deliberately at Misfire, “Lotta practice.”

Swerve moaned again. Misfire tried to shove his face forward, but Riptide’s kibble was in the way, “How many digits?”

“Three,” Riptide said.

“Gimme your other servo?” Misfire made grabby motions until he got Riptide’s servo in his own. He laid his servo flat against Riptide’s to compare, “Yeah, give him another.”

“ _Primus_ ,” Swerve swore fervently, having apparently lifted off.

“Yeah, babe?” Misfire checked.

“Green, so fragging green,” Swerve vented harshly, “Misfire put one of yours in there.”

“Pit yeah,” Misfire agreed, “Where you at, Riptide?”

“Pretty good,” Riptide must have done something with his digits, because Swerve keened a long, wavering note, “Yeah, pretty good.”

Misfire traced down Riptide’s arm until he found where his digits were buried in Swerve. He spent a klik just tracing around Swerve’s valve, savoring the stretched and slippery mesh. He pressed a few tight circles against Swerve’s anterior node, “Maybe just one quick one before we get started.”

Swerve moaned, “You absolutely fragger.”

“Come on, babe,” Misfire mouthed at Riptide’s shoulder, sticking his glossa in a seam and being rewarded with a jolt of static and Riptide’s groan, “Show Riptide just how pretty you are when you overload.”

Misfire circled his node once, twice more and Swerve locked up. Lubricant flowed past Riptide’s digits onto Misfire’s and Swerve wailed a pretty noise as he overloaded. Misfire took the opportunity to slip two digits in along Riptide’s four, “Yeah, just like that.”

Swerve pushed back onto both their digits, plating and mesh still crackling with charge, “Uh, Riptide?”

“Yeah?” Riptide sounded pretty staticked himself.

“Did you just...are you fully pressurized right now?” Swerve asked.

“Oh,” Riptide wiggled his digits against Misfire’s and Swerve groaned, “No, I’m at about seventy three percent right now according to my readout.”

“You’re gonna get _bigger_?” Misfire asked, completely in awe. He traced a third digit around Swerve’s stretched rim.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Swerve rocked his hips as best he could with both of them in him and overloaded again.

“I might have to fight Swerve for the honor of getting fragged by you,” Misfire said.

“If I don’t get these spikes in me in the next five kliks I will kill you,” Swerve managed to get out his garbled vocalizer. Misfire pressed his third digit in and Swerve groaned.

“I really hope we can do this again,” He vented. He moved his digits a bit, making sure Swerve was good, “Yeah, alright. Rearrange!”

Misfire extracted his digits from Swerve and himself from Riptide, getting off the berth to stand in front of them. Riptide’s optics were gratifyingly bright, and Swerve’s plating was clattering the way it always did between overloads two and three. Misfire considered the three of them.

“Okay,” He clapped his servos together, “Riptide, any needs that you would like addressed while you frag Swerve?”

“Um,” Riptide’s fans were spinning high, vents working overtime, “I like being kissed?”

“Doable,” Misfire promised, “Any preference on a view?”

“I mean,” Riptide looked down at Swerve shaking half in his lap, “I figure I’m gonna be looking over his head no matter what.”

“Excellent,” Misfire hauled Swerve upright, “Get your digits out of him.”

Swerve whined at the loss, but Misfire kissed the noise out of his mouth, “Color?”

“Green,” Swerve panted, “So green.”

Misfire picked Swerve up enough to place him in Riptide’s lap, straddling his thighs and facing out to look at Misfire. He dropped to his knees between Riptide’s, “Everyone good?”

“Fragging wouldn’t go amiss,” Swerve said.

“Good,” Riptide groaned when Swerve rubbed his mesh against his top spike.

“Excellent,” Misfire said again, and nudged Swerve up enough that he could guide Riptide’s top spike into his valve.

“Oh Primus,” Swerve said, “That’s— The head of your— Primus, _Riptide_.”

Misfire sat back on his heel thrusters and watched Swerve work himself on the spike for a klik. It was a _really_ nice sight, just different enough from watching Swerve ride _him_ to feel new. Misfire snapped his panel back, rubbing at his anterior node while he watched.

Swerve’s plating started to shuffle again, “More, I— More, please.”

Misfire sat back up and kissed him, “Okay, babe. Riptide?”

“I’m great,” Riptide assured, vocalizer high and staticked, “He’s got really good valve control.”

“I know right?” Misfire dropped his digits to Swerve’s valve, avoiding his node and prodding at the mesh. He slipped two up in him next to Riptide’s spike and Swerve moaned, “Awesome.”

He extricated his digits and curled his servo around Riptide’s lower spike, “Can you lift him up?”

Riptide’s servos curled around Swerve’s waist and held him up so just the head of his top spike was still in his valve. Misfire couldn’t resist leaning in and licking away Swerve’s lubricant from Riptide’s spike. 

“Pitslag,” Riptide hissed, hips jumping.

“ _Primus_ ,” Swerve groaned.

“Nice,” Misfire grinned, licking his lips.

He pulled back, pressing Riptide’s lower spike up against his top one, swiping his thumb against Swerve’s mesh, “Ready lads?”

“Please,” Swerve said, wriggling in Riptide’s grip, trying to push down.

“Yeah,” Riptide said. Misfire worked a digit into Swerve’s valve, pulling the rim out just enough to catch the tip of Riptide’s lower spike. He kept one servo wrapped as best he could around both spikes, taking the digit of his other back and laying it over Riptide’s servo on Swerve’s waist, guiding them both down.

The full head of the lower spike popped fully into Swerve, and the rest disappeared ridge by ridge. They made it about halfway down when Swerve yelped and groaned. The servo Misfire was holding Riptide’s spikes with suddenly felt a lot more full.

“Sorry,” Riptide whined, “Sorry, I—”

“Shh,” Misfire patted the servo under his, “You’re good, it’s fine. Swerve?”

“So fragging green,” Swerve shivered, “So full, so green.”

“What’s your pressurization at?” Misfire got them moving again, looking up where Riptide’s face was finally visible over Swerve.

“Uh,” Riptide closed his optics, “Eighty four percent.”

“You’re a miracle from Primus,” Misfire hummed, drawing his servo back when he felt Swerve’s mesh meet him. Swerve settled the rest of the way down until he was seated once again in Riptide’s lap.

\- - -

Riptide was for sure upping Swerve from nice to amazing.

Riptide had fragged his fair share of bots, especially once they knew about his array. But he was still pretty blown away by Swerve’s valve control. Swerve rolled the calipers in his valve up his spikes. Riptide groaned, “Swerve, mech, that’s ridiculous.”

“Did he do the roll thing?” Misfire asked, vocalizer cracking along the words. Riptide craned his neck to see over Swerve and got a pretty good opticful of Misfire stuffing his digits in his valve.

“Yeah,” Riptide tightened his servos on Swerve’s waist, “Hey, could you stand up?”

Misfire did instantly, attention fully shifting to Riptide. It was kind of heady, the way he laser-focused sometimes, and Riptide was starting to see the appeal, “Whaddya need?”

“Can I have a kiss?” Riptide grinned, and he knew it was a little sheepish. He liked kissing during interface, even if it was hardline. The closeness was nice.

Misfire’s optics softened, “Yeah mech, I can do that. Swerve, where you at?”

“So goo’,” Swerve slurred out, vocalizer so staticy it was hard to hear the glyphs. His valve rolled again and Riptide curled in towards him, “Shoul’ move.”

“Gonna crowd you a little bit, babe,” Misfire murmured, shuffling forward until Swerve’s hood thunked against his cockpit, smiling down at Riptide, “Hey.”

“Hi,” Riptide smiled back. Misfire’s sticky servos framed his face before the mech leaned down and kissed him.

The kiss was also pretty amazing.

Misfire’s lips were soft against his, glossa darting out occasionally to taste, but never pushing into his mouth. Riptide whined when Misfire pulled back, chasing him as far as he could.

“Can you move Swerve while I kiss you?” Misfire asked, and Riptide was pretty sure he’d have agreed to anything in that moment.

“C’n help,” Swerve promised between them. Riptide saw his digits creep up and curl into the slats protecting Misfire’s chest turbines, before he lifted himself up and sank back down, rolling his valve again.

“Frag,” Riptide swore, and his pressurization readout advised that he was at 92%. He focused really hard on keeping it level. 100% and he was done for.

“Good job,” Misfire’s smile was still soft, and he was talking to Swerve even though he was still looking at Riptide like _that_ , “Let’s go.”

Misfire dipped his head again and kissed him. Riptide whined, just barely remembering to help Swerve move. The nodes in Swerve’s valve were dripping in charge and lubricant and Riptide honestly couldn’t tell how he hadn’t overloaded yet. Either of them.

Misfire finally licked past his lips, glossa moving softly over his own, coaxing him to respond. Riptide moved Swerve a little faster, chasing Misfire back into his mouth, only for his glossa to be _sucked_.

Swerve’s valve clamped down _hard_ at the responding jerk down from Riptide, and he overloaded with a cut-off screech. Riptide’s readout ticked from 92% to 96% at the pressure and he held himself as still as possible.

Riptide onlined his optics when Swerve collapsed limp in his grip. Misfire stared down at him, still cupping his face, “Hey there.”

“Frag,” Riptide croaked.

“Swerve’s rebooting,” Misfire grinned, “Good job.”

Something in Riptide warmed at the praise, simple as it was, “Should we move him?”

“Yeah,” Misfire leaned forward and kissed him again though, “Thanks mech, you were perfect.”

“Did you overload?” Riptide frowned, processor muddled this close to overload. Misfire dropped his servos, stepping back and helping Riptide pull Swerve off his spikes carefully.

“Nah,” Misfire waved a servo. Swerve’s valve finally relaxed enough to slip him off Riptide. Misfire froze, “Did you?”

“Not yet,” Riptide grinned, “Close though.”

“How—” Misfire’s vocalizer shorted out, “How close?”

Riptide laid Swerve down next to him and stood. Misfire stared up at him with charge-overbright optics. Riptide grabbed him by the waist and kissed him. Misfire whined, his fans clicking up to an even higher setting. Riptide was impressed.

“Ahhhhh, Mmmmmm-m-m-m,” Swerve said behind them. Riptide spun them and pushed Misfire back on the berth next to him, crawling up between Misfire’s thighs. Swerve’s vocalizer reset once, emitting a few beeps, and reset a second time, “Mm, tha’ was so gooooo’.”

Riptide planted one servo on Misfire’s cockpit to pin him and reached the other out to pat at Swerve, “Thanks.”

“Ooooo,” Swerve slurred, “Gon’ frag Misfire?”

“If he doesn’t mind,” Riptide nodded.

“I don’t mind,” Misfire’s wings clattered against the berth as they attempted to flutter, “So far from minding. Love the idea. Execution would be great any time.”

“Mm,” Swerve rolled enough to snuggle against Misfire’s side, “Should frag ‘im with the bottom spike. Blow yer load all over ‘im with the top one.”

“ _Frag_ ,” Misfire hissed, and Riptide could feel the way his array had pulsed at the words.

“Good idea,” Riptide grinned at Swerve, who smiled back slowly. Riptide arranged his spikes with the least touching he could, nudging the lower at Misfire’s valve rim while the top bumped his anterior node.

“Oh Primus,” Misfire babbled, “Oh sweet Pits, Riptide.”

Riptide rolled his hips forward. His readout ticked from 96% to 97%. Misfire _yelled_ , “You had _both_ of these in you?”

“Don’ be an infant,” Swerve smacked him and trailed his servo down to press Riptide’s spike down against Misfire’s node. 98%.

Misfire moaned. Riptide answered with his own. Swerve smiled, “Yeah? You two gonna overload all over each other? How messy are you gonna be, Misfire?”

Riptide pulled back and thrust back in while Misfire squirmed beneath him, wings lifting up and smacking the berth rhythmically. 99%.

Swerve’s thumb reached up and swept over Riptide’s transfluid channel. 100%.

Riptide thrust forward and overloaded, Misfire’s valve and Swerve’s servo urging him on. Somewhere in the middle of his, he felt Misfire convulse around him and a zing of answering charge hit his sensors.

Riptide pulled out carefully once he’d cycled down, watching Swerve digits swipe through his transfluid on Misfire’s plating. Misfire opened his optics, “Hey, come back. Lay down.”

“Yeah?” Riptide paused, surprised. Casual mechs didn’t usually want him to stick around, especially when they were all but bonded like these two. 

“Yeah,” Swerve stretched. It was really cute, “Good frag means Misfire pillow.”

Misfire patted at his cockpit, “Put ‘er there.”

Riptide grinned and laid down, his pedes hanging off the edge of the berth. Misfire wormed an arm under him and patted his back, “Good?”

“Mm,” Riptide hummed, already heading towards recharge, “Beats a supply closet.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about robots on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] ta bite mec](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28427970) by [carboncopies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carboncopies/pseuds/carboncopies)




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